


paradise in her eyes

by seren_ccd



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7879204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Perhaps,” Max said carefully, “it isn’t so much that you need time off or someone to take care of you.  It’s more that you have been under a great deal of stress and wouldn’t it be nice if someone could help you relieve that stress?  If only for say, an evening?”  </p><p>An Abigail Ashe/Billy Bones modern!au meet-cute.  Involving well-meaning friends, dogs, and strategically placed towels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, let's kick off this Bank Holiday weekend with some Abigail/Billy modern village!au nonsense. I just had the urge to write something light and fluffy with these two. I'm still hard at work on 'a tide of hope' but this little fic just wouldn't leave me alone. It's a two-parter and I aim to have the second half up on Sunday.
> 
> Title is from Borns' 'American Money' which, along with Sarah MacLachlan's 'Sweet Surrender', I listened to on repeat while writing this.

The wind teased through Abigail’s hair as she cycled steadily along the farm tracks that led to her family’s home. Her skirt ruffled against her thighs as her legs moved in an easy motion built up from years of cycling the same route from the primary school where she taught to her home on the edge of the village of New Providence. 

Her daily commute to and from school had become the only time of the day where she felt…peaceful, for lack of a better word. During the day, it was non-stop “Miss, miss, I can’t find my bag!’ or ‘Miss, miss, Tyler stole my pencil!’ She adored her students, she truly did; but after losing her parents the winter just past, it felt as though something was missing from her life and it wasn’t going to be easily replaced.

She leaned into the easy curve around the apple orchards and breathed in the smell of the blossoms that had just started to emerge in the last few days.

Sometimes it felt as though this was the only time she actually saw things as they were. The rest of the time it felt as though she were peering through a spyglass at the world; everything around her seemed so small and far away.

It was the grief at work, she knew this, but knowing didn’t seem to do anything. And something needed to be done. Well, according to her friends it did.

“I think you need a holiday,” her fellow teacher and friend, Eleanor had said at lunch the day before as she handed Abigail the salt.

Abigail had taken the salt even as she gave her fellow teacher and friend an odd look. “I’m sorry?”

“You should go on a holiday,” Eleanor repeated before digging into her salad. “At half-term, you should go on a nice hols somewhere sunny.” She chewed for a moment. “Greece. Or the Maldives.”

“I’m not going on a holiday,” Abigail said sprinkling a small amount of salt on the rather uninspiring salad that Max, the art teacher, had bought at Tesco’s on her free period. “Besides, I burn far too easily for Greece. And what made you think I need a holiday anyways?”

Eleanor and Max exchanged glances before Max put her wrap down and said, “Because you look exhausted, Abi. And you didn’t take any time off when… Well.”

“I took time off,” Abigail said frowning at a cherry tomato as she pushed it around the bowl.

“You took the allotted amount of compassionate leave,” Eleanor said, “and then jumped right back into teaching. We’re just concerned that you came back too soon.”

Abigail took a bite of lettuce and chewed slowly to put off answering her friends. They weren’t wrong. When her parents had died in late November, she had taken off what she could before the winter break to deal with everything and she had come back to school in January with something very much like relief. She finished chewing and told Eleanor and Max as much.

“I’m not the holiday-type,” she said. “And I’m still trying to get the house sold. I can’t just leave. Besides, I like teaching.”

“No one is saying that you don’t,” Max said gently offering Abigail some crisps, which she took because she was a sucker for prawn cocktails. 

“You’ve spent the last few years taking care of your parents during their retirement,” Eleanor said pointing her fork at Abigail. “You spend all your energy on the children; you go above and beyond every day. So, it begs the question, you takes care of you?”

“This coming from the woman who runs and hides every time she sees Charles Vane come into the pub?” Abigail asked arching an eyebrow, while Max hid a grin and Idelle, the school secretary sitting at the table adjacent to theirs and obviously eavesdropping, snorted into her yoghurt pot.

“I don’t run and hide,” Eleanor muttered. 

“And we’re discussing your issues,” Max said to Abigal. “Not Eleanor’s. If we started in on hers, we’d be here till Christmas.”

Abigail grinned while Eleanor glared at Max, before she said, “I appreciate the concern, ladies. But I’m fine. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

They glanced at each other and it was about this time in the conversation that Abigail had a premonition things were going to get worse.

“Perhaps,” Max said carefully, “it isn’t so much that you need time off or someone to take care of you. It’s more that you have been under a great deal of stress and wouldn’t it be nice if someone could help you relieve that stress? If only for say, an evening?”

Abigail frowned as she stared at her friends. “Are you suggesting that I,” she lowered her voice, “ _get laid?_ ”

“No,” Max and Eleanor said quickly, while Idelle said, “ _Yes!_ ”

Max and Eleanor looked at one another and then sighed in unison before Eleanor said, “Yes, actually, we are suggesting just that.”

Even now, a day later, Abigail still couldn’t believe her friends had honestly suggested that the cure to her grief was to have sex.

Not that she was against having sex, per se. She’d had it in the past and it was certainly enjoyable enough. She just wasn’t sure how she’d even go about finding someone who’d be willing. 

Ducking under a low hanging branch as she cut through the orchards, she thought that maybe ‘willing’ was the wrong word. Heaven knew that New Providence had its share of single men, but there wasn’t anyone that Abigail was all that keen on. It wasn’t as though the village accumulated new or attractive prospects on the regular.

 _And being keen on the person you’re about to have sex with is somewhat important,_ she thought smiling to herself as she pedaled. _In fact, it’s rather key to the whole thing. And that’s not even getting into the fact that I don’t really fancy shagging someone I don’t really know. Or trust._

Shaking her head, Abigail pushed the idea from her mind and focused on the feel of the air against her face as she rode along the path and the way the fields were returning to their brilliant green after a long cold, wet winter.

Spring was on the way and Abigail breathed deep as she turned onto the small path that led to the main road.

She put on a burst of speed and flew down the steep path, cringing when she realized that she’d taken the path too fast and she’d pull out onto the road far too quickly.

Biting her lip and pressing gently on her brakes, she emerged onto the road, swerving into the lane a bit too far.

She pulled out in front of a battered Range Rover and even as she yanked sharply to pull her bicycle over to the bike lane, she heard a screech of brakes behind her. Overcompensating, she pulled too hard and her bike crashed into the hedge. With a cry, she bounced off the hedge and landed hard on her side. The asphalt scraped up the side of her leg, ripping her favorite pair of plum-coloured tights.

She lay on the ground for a moment, taking stock of all of her injuries, not to mention the severe bruising her pride had just taken and realized that the Range Rover had come to a stop just ahead of her.

Sitting up, she noticed that the Rover had a small livestock trailer hitched up to it and she heard a dog barking from the cab of the Rover. 

“Hush, Jock,” a voice called and Abigail winced wondering if the driver was truly mad at her actions.

Not quite ready to face him, she pulled herself from under her bike and shakily got to her feet. The adrenaline made her limbs loose and unsteady and she swayed a bit once she was upright.

Putting a hand to her head, she closed her eyes and willed the world to stop spinning.

“Christ, are you all right?” the driver asked as he approached.

“Mostly?” Abigail said, before lowering her hand and looking up at the driver. Oh, make that looking way, _way_ up at the driver.

Good Lord, no one had the right to be quite that tall and that good-looking and they certainly had no business having arms like that.

 _What was it you were saying about there being no prospects in New Providence?_ a voice not unlike Max’s said in her head.

“Oh, my,” Abigail said as she stared at the driver, and as she tried her best to catalogue precisely what shade of blue his eyes were, her knees gave out and she slumped to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure, self-indulgent fluff and I hope you'll forgive me for it. On a side note, Insult to Injury plasters are a real thing. I hope you enjoy!

Abigail’s knees buckled and she felt herself slump towards the ground, but a very large, very strong hand caught her around the waist, pulling her upright and into a warm, hard body.

She blinked as the driver’s calm voice, said, “Whoa, whoa, easy there.”

As his voice spoke several inches above her head she had to tilt her head back some ways to meet his eyes. He smiled down at her, looking a delightful blend of worried and amused. She tried to smile back.

“I’m so very sorry,” she said.

“It’s all right,” he said. “That was quite the fall you had. No wonder you’re a little unsteady.”

“Oh, not that,” she said shaking her head and wincing at the sting in her leg. “I shouldn’t have taken the hill quite so quickly. I knew I’d wind up in the road.”

“I was going rather fast myself,” he said. “I didn’t even know there was a path there.”

“Few people do,” she said. She glanced at the trailer and frowned. “Did I disturb anyone?”

He frowned and then looked at the trailer, and with a chuckle, he shook his head, “It’s empty. They’re happily grazing on a field in Devon.”

“Oh, dear,” she said as her brow furrowed. “Is that similar to a parent telling their child that their beloved dog is now on a farm in the countryside?”

His own brow furrowed and Abigail had the absurd urge to smooth the lines above his brow, but they smoothed on their own when he grinned. “No, it’s the truth. They truly are grazing on a field in Devon. I just got back from dropping them off. They were for breeding, not eating. Well, not yet, anyway.”

Abigail smiled back as she said, “Ah, well, I’m glad of that. Are you all right?”

“Very well,” he said looking her over. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“No,” she said. “I think my leg received the worst of it.” She glanced at her bike. “Oh, and my bike. Oh, damn, I’ll have to replace the wheel.”

She moved to inspect her bike but realized that he still held her steady with his hand on her waist and that his hand spanned the entirety of the space between the bottom of her ribs to the flare of her hip. 

It sent a shiver through her and she bit her lip, before blurting out, “My name is Abigail.”

He raised his eyebrows as he said, “Billy Manderley.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

“And you,” he said smiling gently. “Now, you will let me help you home, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can…” She trailed off as she looked at her bike and knew that she was at least another mile from her cottage. She glanced up at him and took in his patient gaze and she sighed. “That’s very kind of you. I’m so sorry to take you out of your way.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said guiding her to the car. A border collie with mismatched eyes held his head out of the back of the Rover and Abigail smiled at him.

“And who is this?” she asked holding out her hand for the dog to sniff, which it did then gave her a tiny lick.

“That’s Jock,” Billy said. “Jock, be polite.”

Jock tilted and offered his paw to Abigail. She laughed and shook it firmly.

“Very nice to meet you,” she said before she patted his head. “Such a gentleman.”

“He has his moments,” Billy said opening the passenger door for her and she gingerly eased herself onto the seat. “If he gets too curious, just tell him to ‘sit’.”

At the word, Jock promptly sat on the backseat, his tail still wagging.

“Oh, he’s very clever,” Abigail said. “My grandfather used to train them. They can be such excellent companions.”

“That they can,” he said. “I’ll put your bike in the trailer.”

“Thank you,” she said and he just smiled. Abigail watched him go and then leaned back. Every place he’d touched her seemed to tingle and she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Oh, my.”

Jock sat up and leaned his head against her seat. She smiled at him and scratched behind his ears. He made a happy snort and angled so that she got just the right spot.

When Billy opened the door, Jock was halfway onto the front seat while Abigail alternated between ears. But he just shook his head. “Jock. Come on, boy, in the back.”

Jock snorted, but did as he was told. 

Billy started up the Rover and asked, “Where to?”

“Just a bit up the road,” Abigail said buckling her seatbelt. “The first right past the orchards.”

Billy pulled out onto the road and Abigail glanced at his profile and the easy way his hands shifted the gears.

“Are you just passing through?” she asked. 

“Nah,” he said. “I’m the new flock manager for Hamilton Farm.”

A chill settled into her stomach. “Oh,” she said quietly. “For how long?”

“Near about six months,” he said. “But I’ve been seeing to the flocks in other parts of the country. Hopefully, that’s done and I can be here more often.” He glanced at her and she glanced away, out the window. “Are you all right?”

“My last name is Ashe,” she said.

“Okay, why - oh. Oh, I see,” he said frowning even as he glanced over.

A few quiet moments passed before he said, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She shook her head. “My father’d had too much to drink. I told him not to drive home, but he’d insisted. And as a result, my mother, my father, and Mr and Mrs Hamilton are all dead.” She took a deep breath. “It was my father’s fault.”

“Which means your loss hurts all the more, doesn’t it?” he said quietly.

She looked at him in surprise and he looked back at her steadily.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It hurts a great deal. I…haven’t spoken to Mr Flint since it happened, but I understand he’s taken the loss of his partners quite hard.” She looked out the window. “I don’t know how to…talk to him about it.” She cleared her throat. “It’s the next turn.”

His hand shifted the gears smoothly and she watched his strong knuckles and hands as they turned the steering wheel. Another shiver threatened to slip over her, but she held it back.

“I know that you don’t really know me,” he said slowly. “And I don’t really know the whole history here, but it seems to me that what your father did should have no bearing whatsoever on what people think of you. And Flint is certainly guilty of a great many things himself. I can’t imagine he holds you responsible.”

“All the same,” she said with a sigh. “It’s been a very difficult winter for a lot of us.”

The rest of the drive up to the Ashe property was in silence until the house was in view. Billy spotted the ‘For Sale’ sign. 

“You’re moving?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Just selling the house. I actually live down that little drive there. In the cottage at the end.”

Billy pulled onto the small gravel-lined drive and stopped in front of the small cottage. “You live here all alone?” he asked glancing at her.

She nodded. “Just me. I’ve been considering getting a dog, though.”

“Featherstone in the farm just over the way has a litter of Springer Spaniels on the way,” he said.

“Does he?” she asked smiling. “They’re lovely dogs. Very loyal.”

“Good to train,” he said. “They need space to run, but I don’t think that’s a problem here.”

She laughed. “No, the one thing I have is space.” Her smiled slipped a little. “A great deal of space.”

She met his eyes and he seemed to see into her and she wondered what it was that he saw. The air in the truck seemed to grow thin and Abigail swallowed anticipation down. She noticed his hand twitch where it rested on the gearshift and all she knew in the moment was that she wanted his hands on her again. She wanted…

Jock snorted and whined behind her and they both jumped.

“Thank you very much,” she said flustered and blindly feeling the door for the latch. “I do appreciate the lift.”

“Of course,” he said as he got out and she thought she heard him mutter under his breath. She put her feet on the ground and gasped when her scraped leg stung when she moved it.

“Stupid girl,” she muttered to herself as she limped around the Rover to see Billy easily lift her bike out of the trailer and lean it against the side of the cottage. The front wheel was definitely dinted and Abigail knew what she’d be doing later that weekend.

“How will you get around?” he asked her.

“I have a car,” she said. “I just prefer to ride.”

He nodded and rubbed his jaw. “I could try to fix it? It can’t be that much different to a tractor?”

Abigail laughed. “I think you’d be surprised.”

“Well, then,” he said coming to her and looking at her leg. He made a face. “That must sting.”

“Yes,” she said on a sigh. “It does. That’ll teach me to cycle too fast.”

“Yeah, but it was fun before the landing, wasn’t it?” he said.

“Yes,” she said smiling up at him. “It was.”

They stood and stared at each other for a long moment and Abigail felt as though she could stare into his eyes forever. It was such an unfamiliar feeling; she felt as though she was adrift on a sea she’d never seen before and yet couldn’t find it in herself to stop looking at him.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” she asked in a rush. His eyebrows rose and her cheeks flushed. “I made far too much stew last night and I can’t possibly eat all of it. And if you’ve been on the road, you must be starving.”

The corners of his mouth curved up and he nodded. “The last thing I ate was at the services about fifty miles away.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” she said digging into her satchel for her keys. “Please come in. Oh! Ouch, damn it.”

She winced as she stepped with her injured leg. Suddenly, Billy was there, by her side, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. She turned into him slightly and her hand came to rest on his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his chest rising and falling as though he was having trouble catching his breath. Not that Abigail was doing much better; she wasn’t sure if her head was spinning due to the tumble she’d taken or because he smelled of earth and spice and something she couldn’t place but was delicious all the same.

She smiled and together, they made it into her house. Billy glanced around and she wondered what he thought as he took in the overflowing bookcases, the folders of marking on her desk, her grandmother’s quilt on the sofa, and the pictures of her family on the wall.

She had her answer when he smiled and looked down at her. “Your home is lovely. I can’t remember when I saw so many books.”

“They’re my mother’s,” she said. “Well, and mine. Most of the women in the family have been teachers, so the books tend to follow.”

“You teach?” he asked.

“At the local primary school,” she said nodding.

“Long day,” he said. “No wonder you like to ride home. Nothing clears your head like fresh air.”

“Nothing at all,” she said smiling up at him.

Once again, she suddenly realized that she had curled closer to him as they stood there. His arm had wrapped itself around her waist and her hand still rested on his chest, just over his heart. She glanced at her hand and saw his Adam’s apple bob as he did the same.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Yes,” she said not able to move her eyes from her hand.

“I can, ah, take a look at your leg,” he said. “I mean, that scrape on your leg.”

“Oh,” she said looking up at him and blinking as he met her gaze and had the blue of his eyes darkened or was it just the light? She blinked again and stepped away. “Yes. First aid kit. It’s under the sink.” She pressed the back of her hand to her flushed cheek and turned. “Um, help yourself to some tea. I’ll, um, just…be right back.”

She made her way to her bedroom more by muscle memory than by sight and once she stood inside of it, with the door closed behind her, she stood looking at her familiar walls feeling completely at a loss.

“What. Are you doing?” she said out loud. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror on the wall and almost didn’t recognize herself, her eyes were so wide and her cheeks were flushed pink. She also had grass in her hair and on her cardigan.

“Oh,” she said slipping her cardigan off and sitting down on the edge of her bed to take her boots off. She winced as she carefully pulled her very ruined tights off. They clung to her scrapes and when she tugged, the wounds bled sluggishly. 

“Gross,” she muttered as she dropped her tights into her wastebasket. She paused and then looked at her reflection in the mirror once more before asking out loud, “Are you really going to go out there and let a perfect stranger tend to your scrapes? And you also invited him to supper? What is with you, Abigail Ashe?”

_Well,_ a voice that sounded a great deal like Eleanor’s said, _I, for one, think it’s about time you did something unexpected. So, get out there and see where the evening takes you.”_

She twisted her mouth a little at her reflection, then nodded briskly, before grabbing her favorite, well-worn jumper to slip on over her dress. She left her legs and feet bare and left her bedroom.

Her feet were silent as she padded to the kitchen where she heard movement. She turned around the corner to see Billy, looking enormous in her tiny kitchen as he poured hot water from the kettle into two mugs. He noticed her and looked up. A smile hovered around his lips before he glanced at her leg.

“Christ, that looks worse than I thought,” he said setting the kettle down and coming over. His hand cupped her elbow and he led her to the kitchen table, where she sat down. “Ah, do you take milk and sugar in your tea?”

“Just milk,” she said not able to hold back a smile as he moved around her kitchen with far more grace than a man his size should possess.

He fixed their tea and set hers down in front of her before grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink. Without a word, he lifted her leg so that her foot rested on his thigh. Abigail held her breath at the feel of his hand on her ankle and then let it out slowly. He took a bit of gauze and dipped it in a glass of water.

Apologetically, he glanced at her. “This will smart a bit.”

She took a sip of tea, then set her mug down. “I’m ready. Do your worst.”

He flashed her a grin and then dabbed at her cut. She wrinkled her nose and wrapped her hand around her mug. His hands were incredibly gentle as he cleaned the wound. All said, it was mostly road rash, with only one deepish cut. He cleaned that silently, and Abigail found herself watching his face intently; taking in the line of his jaw, the stubble that grew there, the length of his throat and the play of the shifting muscles in his forearm.

He finished cleaning out the cut and took out a plaster, but stopped and frowned as he looked at it, Abigail realized what he was looking at and groaned.

“’Thou art a beetle-headed, flap-eared knave’?” he read off the plaster.

She laughed and said, “They’re Insult to Injury plasters. They were a Secret Santa gift from one of the other teachers.”

“Cute. I think I know someone who’d like these, actually,” he said carefully applying the plaster to her scrape. He put three of them along the deepest part of the cut and then cupped her ankle as he looked at her.

“Will I live, doctor?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said starting to smile. “I don’t think we’ll need to amputate.”

“Good,” she said flexing her toes where they rested on his thigh. He stiffened and she froze. Flushing, she lifted her foot from his thigh and smoothed down her skirt, before gulping at her tea. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him do the same, nearly downing the entire mug in one long drink.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

He looked at her over the rim of his mug and lowering, he said, “I could eat.”

She smiled briefly and got to her feet. “Oh, you’re more than welcome to let Jock inside. I hate to think of him stuck in the truck.”

“You don’t mind?” he asked getting to his feet. 

“Of course not,” she said turning to him. “I’m afraid I don’t have any dog food, but I’ve a bowl for water…”

“I’ve got some food for him,” he said smiling. “He’ll thank you for the water though.”

With a grin, she knelt to the bottom cupboard and pulled out a clear bowl that she filled with water while Billy left to bring his dog inside.

Perhaps it was the addition of Jock to the room, but the tension that had built up while Billy tended her leg evaporated while Abigail fixed supper. She found herself telling him of her students and how hard it was to get them to engage when the administration kept throwing all sorts of standardized tests at them. He told her of the plans Flint had for Hamilton Farm and the sheep breeding world. Billy had just arrived back in the UK after spending two years in New Zealand.

“Ever been to Wales?” he asked as they ate dinner.

She nodded. “Oh, yes. Pembrokeshire, mostly.”

“Well, if you think Wales has sheep, it’s nothing compared to New Zealand,” he said.

“The extent of my knowledge of New Zealand begins and ends with the Lord of the Rings,” she said laughing.

“So did mine,” he said grinning.

She giggled and that sparked another thread of conversation around films and travel and before Abigail knew it, dinner was finished and this man she barely knew was helping her wash dishes. His hands dwarfed the silverware and that persistent shiver from earlier made itself known once more.

She looked away and dried her mugs carefully before setting them in the cupboard. She heard him turn the tap off and when she turned to look at him, he stood there, his hands braced on the edge of the sink, looking at her with an open expression.

Abigail worried her lip and it before she could talk herself out of it, she said, “Do you want to stay?”

“Stay?” he repeated, his hands reflexively clenching the edge of the sink.

“Yes,” she said tugging at the hem of her dress. “Stay. The night, I mean.”

“You’re asking me to…stay the night?” he said, his eyes doing that darkening thing again.

“Yes?” she said and the weight of what she’d just asked smacked her in the face and she covered her eyes with her hand. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I’m… Oh, I don’t know. I’m an idiot. Maybe I did hit my head. I can’t believe I just asked you to… God, you don’t even _know_ me and --“

Her voice trailed off when she felt fingers curl around her wrist and tug her hand from her eyes. During her tirade, he’d clearly come closer and she raised her eyes to his.

He continued to hold her hand in his, but took his other hand and lifted it to her face. The pads of his fingers gently brushed the skin above her eyebrows, then trailed down over her temples, the curve of her cheek, down to her jaw. Cradling her face in his hand, he let the pad of his thumb brush over the fullness of her lower lip. On instinct, she parted her lips and placed her hand on his chest, sliding it up to curl around his neck.

Without a word, he lowered his head and his mouth brushed over hers so lightly, once, twice, then again and when she made a tiny noise, he groaned and his mouth opened over hers.

She pressed herself as close as she could to him and his hand untangled itself from hers and wound around her waist, lifting her onto her toes. His tongue stroked against hers and she matched him stroke for stroke. His hand slid down to cup her bottom and the side of her thigh as he teased the edge of her dress.

Her head fell back as his mouth travelled down her throat. Gasping, she asked, “Why?” 

He lifted his head to look at her, his lips parted and swollen from her kisses. 

“Why?” she asked again, unable to verbalize what she really wanted to ask.

But, he seemed to know precisely what she was asking and he said, “Because you’re not the only one who’s lonely. And because you have the loveliest eyes I think I’ve ever seen. And I’ve wanted to touch you since I saw you flying down that hill without a care in the world.”

She stared at him in silence before she said, “Oh, that was an excellent answer.”

“Was it?” he asked starting to smile.

She nodded.

“May I go back to kissing you?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, please,” she said lifting herself up to meet his mouth with hers.

He laughed into her mouth and she chased the sound with her lips and tongue. Several minutes are spent just kissing and touching and an ache that Abigail had forgotten her body was capable of producing made itself known and she arched against Billy.

He groaned and she felt him hard against her belly. Hesitantly, her hand slipped down to palm his erection and he lifted his head, gasping as he looked down at her hand on the outline of his cock. She stared up at him staring down at her and experimentally, she smoothed her hand down and then back up.

The sound that came from his throat sent her shivering all over. His hand shot out to still her and he met her eyes.

“Oh,” she said startled. “Should I not-?”

“You definitely should,” he said breathlessly. “In fact, I want nothing more than for you to continue. But…”

“But-?” she said.

He closed his eyes as though he was in pain. “But I smell of sheep and I don’t have anything in the form of protection.” He opened his eyes and grinned sheepishly down at her. “I hadn’t planned on running an irresistible girl off the road; otherwise, I would be more prepared. And cleaner.”

“Well,” she said grinning back at him. “I just so happen to have a shower, which will help with the smell of sheep. And, um, the person who gave me the plasters? Well, she also gave me a box of condoms. So, if you don’t mind that they happen to come in a variety of colors, then um, we’re covered?” She winced. “So to speak.”

“Well, thank fuck for cheeky Secret Santa presents,” he said before ducking his head and kissing her until her head spun.

Another several minutes passed as they made their way to Abigail’s bedroom and the bathroom adjoining it. After a kiss that made her toes curl into the carpet, he slipped into the bathroom. She stood there staring into space listening to the shower switch on. Clapping her hands over her mouth and giggling like a mad woman for a moment, panic started to settle in.

She shook out her hands and looked around her room. She glanced at her wardrobe and mentally went through her clothes, despairing that she had nothing even approaching sexy. With shaking hands, she took off her jumper and slipped out of her dress. She glanced at herself in the mirror and rolled her eyes. Of course, her bra and knickers didn’t match. Why should they?

She headed towards her dresser but froze when Billy appeared in the doorway and her mouth went dry.

He must have taken the fastest shower ever and hadn’t really bothered to dry off as droplets of water trailed down, down, _down_ his torso to disappear into the towel that he wore around his waist. _Her_ towel. The soft lavender one that she’d used that very morning.

Her eyes travelled back up (up, up, _up_ ) to meet his gaze, only to realize he was staring at her as though she were water and he was dying of thirst. It bolstered her some and she straightened. The movement had him snapping his eyes to hers.

“Are you--?” His voice broke slightly and he cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She gave his question thought. 

She truly did. 

For five whole seconds, she considered her decision. 

Then she walked over to him and lifting her hand, she trailed her fingers across his brow, down his temples, and along his scruff-covered jaw, stopping only to brush her thumb across his lower lip, echoing his gesture from before.

She’d barely let her thumb touch his lip before his mouth was on hers, drinking deep and moving hard. Her hands twined around his neck as his travelled down her side to curl under her thighs. With apparent ease, he lifted her and carried her to the bed. 

His knees hit the edge and they tumbled onto the duvet, and Abigail couldn’t seem to stop touching him. Her hands caressed his shoulders, his back, the curve of his hips and with every pass of her hands, he surged against her. His head moved to the curve of her neck and he mouthed at her pulse jumping in her throat.

“So good,” he murmured against her skin. “Christ, you taste so good.”

She arched her back as he moved down, his mouth alighting on the peak of her nipple. He brushed his lips gently across her breast, over her bra, before suckling her through the fabric. She reached behind to undo the clasp, arching even more into his mouth. The clasp undone, it was a wrestling match between them to see who could get the damn thing off of her, but then it was flung across the room and his mouth was on her bare skin and her hands held his head steady as he nipped and licked.

Her nails raked down his shoulders as his suckling seemed to connect directly to her clitoris and she curved her hips up, rocking and seeking the friction her body craved.

He groaned around her breast when her hips finally cradled his cock. Abigail tugged at the towel still loosely wrapped around his waist and he lifted up just long enough for her to remove it and fling it to the floor. His cock was hard and hot against her knicker-covered sex and she tugged his head from her breast to kiss his lips hard.

“Condom,” he managed after several long moments of him thrusting shallowly against her.

“Hmm, bedside table,” she said pulling away long enough to stretch her hand towards the drawer. As her hand dipped into the drawer, she felt his fingers dance along the edge of her knickers. She froze and her eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, God.”

One finger slipped under the elastic and lightly touched where she was wet and aching and she looked down. Billy stared at her, his eyes dark and his lips parted. He slid his finger once more through her wetness and when the rough pad of his finger rasped against her clit, she moaned.

“Abigail,” he said lowly.

“Yes?” she replied, her voice a shadow of itself.

“Condom.”

She grabbed the entire box and scooted back down under his body, shoving the box into his hand. Later, she’d marvel at how he was able to open the box and get her knickers off all while kissing her, but at that moment, she just kissed him with everything she had.

At one point, he opened the condom and, to his credit, only paused briefly as he said, “Are these plaid condoms?”

“My friend has a perverse sense of humor,” she said smiling a little.

“I can live with it if you can,” he said.

She nodded and her eyes were drawn to the sight of him grasping his cock and giving it one long, slow pull. She sat up and he stopped. Her hand reached out and he held absolutely still while she covered his hand with hers. Together, they pumped his cock, once, twice, and on the third pull, she leaned up and kissed him. He slid the condom on and cradling her head, he lowered her to the bed.

As he lined himself up, Abigail had a moment to wonder just where all of her bravado had come from, but then he slid into her and her vision and her mind whited out; all she was aware of was the wonderful feeling of him inside of her. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled against her lips. “God, can you take all of me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes,” she said curling her knees up. He pulled back and then thrust back in and they groaned into each other’s mouth.

On each thrust in, Abigail lifted her hips to meet him. Over and over, as his mouth devoured hers and her hands slid down to palm his arse. On one particular thrust, she rocked in such a way that he struck a place of pure electricity and she cried out.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked slowing down.

“No,” she gasped. “Again! Oh, please, again!”

He rolled them over so that she was astride his hips, while he was still firmly between her thighs. He seemed to slip even further inside her and she rocked, aching to feel that electricity again.

One of his hands gripped her hip, while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple again and again. Abigail kept her eyes open as she rocked and she looked down to meet his gaze. Her hand gripped his hand on her hip and he thrust up into her and there it was - the electricity.

“Oh,” she said rocking again and again. “Oh, I can’t--“

“You can,” he said. “Come on, sweetheart. Come on.”

She rocked and as his thumb passed over her nipple he thrust up and the electricity sparked and she was alight in every way. Her blood crackled under her skin and her hips shuddered as she bent over his body.

In a swift move, he rolled them back over and surged into her again and again, thrusting through her orgasm until he groaned and his hips slammed into hers with such force she thought she’d come again.

As it was, she shuddered and pulled his head down to hers so that she could kiss his mouth. He groaned into her mouth and messily kissed her back.

Later, after condom (a very plaid condom) was disposed of, they curled up in Abigail’s bed under the duvet facing each other.

She half expected things to be awkward, but found herself completely at peace and judging by the calm expression on Billy’s face, he felt the same.

“I have to leave early,” he said tracing his fingers along her neck and the curve of her shoulder. She scooted closer and his hand trailed along her spine. “Very early. Before sunrise.”

“Time and tide and sheep wait for no man?” she said tracing the line of collarbone,

“Something like that, yeah,” he said his mouth curving into a half-smile. “I’d, uh, like to see you again. Not to do this. I mean, not to _just_ do this. We could talk, or something, too.”

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. Their mouths moved lazily over each other. Eventually, she said, “I’d like to see you again, too. Um, actually, I know that some of the farm lads head to the pub on Friday nights. I sometimes go with the other teachers. We could meet there, if you want?”

“I want,” he said curling his hand around her hip and kissing her again.

They fell asleep wrapped in each other and Abigail couldn’t remember the last time she felt so happy.

* * *

Billy left before dawn the next day, kissing her awake and she smiled as she watched him get dressed and she got up to walk him to the door.

He kissed her deep and slow and they agreed to meet at the pub on Friday night.

And then he and Jock were gone and if it wasn’t for a pleasant ache between her thighs, Abigail could almost have dreamed the whole thing.

As it was, she was next to useless the rest of the day and when Friday finally rolled around, she felt as though she was going to jump out of her skin.

As she sat with Max, Eleanor, and Idelle at the pub, she nursed her gin and tonic and kept her eye on the door.

“Okay, what is with you?” Eleanor asked poking Abigail in the side. “You’ve been weird all week. Is it because we told you to get laid, because we were mostly kidding, you know.”

Abigail stared at her. “’Mostly kidding’? Really?”

“We just wanted to get you thinking of alternatives to staying all alone in that cottage of yours,” Max said shrugging. “We want you to get out more.”

Abigail blinked at them and then said, “It was good advice, actually. I feel wonderful.”

They stared at her, before Eleanor cracked. 

“Holy shit, you got laid,” she said, her eyes wide. “You really did it?”

Abigail hesitated and then nodded. “Yep.”

“With who?” Eleanor asked looking around. “Is he here?”

“Not yet,” Abigail said spinning her drink in her hands. “But he’s supposed to be.” They continued to stare at her until she rolled her eyes. “What? I’m not sorry it happened. And he’ll be here. He’s--“

She glanced at the door and then smiled. Billy walked in, ducking his head under the low exposed beams, his eyes roamed the crowd. When he spotted her, the smile he gave her was downright shy considering. Abigail smiled back.

“Goodness gracious me,” Max said. “Him? Really?”

“Jesus, Abi,” Eleanor said. “I can’t believe you had it in you.”

“I think the more pertinent thing is: how many times did _he_ have it in _you_?” Idelle asked.

“You’re all horrible and I hate you,” Abigail said getting to her feet.

“No, you don’t,” Max said smiling. “Now, go and stake some sort of claim before anyone else does.”

Abigail rolled her eyes and made her way over to Billy who stood against the wall watching her with heated eyes.

“Hi,” she said when she got close.

“Hi,” he said grinning. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“And then we’ll go talk, or something?” she said.

He nodded. “And after we do that, we’ll pick up where we left off. It’s been a very long two days and I’ve spent most of it running stock numbers which has left me free to think of an entire list of things that I want to do to you.”

Abigail’s cheeks flushed and she stepped closer and leaned up. “You know, I actually have things to drink at my house…”

“Sold,” he said grabbing her hand and pulling her out the door.

It was some time before they got anywhere near the drinks.


End file.
